Lori Armstrong - No Mercy

After I wiped the dirt from my knees, I locked the necklace in the glove box. As I reached for my cooler, a couple of shouts caught my attention, followed by the unmistakable sound of a body hitting metal.

A fight.

No kidding. Nothing cowboys liked better than to get drunk and brawl. Mostly the young cocky ones, but I’d seen my share of forty- and fifty-year-old guys duking it out over a slight, real or imagined.

I zeroed in on six or seven kids circling two punks mixing it up in the dirt. Couldn’t tell if any of the gawkers were adults who should’ve stopped the asinsine show of testosterone. I peered over the edge of the crowd to see if I had to be the voice of reason.

And I noticed his shoes right off. Good thing. His face was so damn bloody I doubt his mother would’ve recognized him.

Levi.

He’d pinned the other guy on the ground. He was so tired the wild punches he swung didn’t land.

The situation left me in a dilemma. If I broke up the fight, Levi’s friends wouldn’t let him live it down. If I didn’t break it up and Levi ended up hurt… I couldn’t live with that option either. As I debated, I heard a sharp male voice bark, “What’s going on back there?”

Both boys jumped up. Wiped blood from their faces, glaring at each other from bruised eyes. “Keep your fucking mouth shut about this, Arpel.”

“You don’t tell me what to do, fuckface.”

A short-lived respite. More words were exchanged, and they were back at it again. Pushing. Shoving. Swinging. Missing.

I attempted to diffuse the situation by trying to insert myself between them. Yeah, I probably should’ve waited the full thirty seconds until the Samaritan showed up, but I’d broken up my fair share of fights. Mostly between drunken adult male military personnel, so I didn’t consider the danger of coming between a couple of pissed-off hormonal high school boys.

I should have.

“Stay out of it. It don’t concern you.” This free advice was snarled from a bystander the size of an oak tree.

“Shut your big mouth, Moser,” Levi panted, keeping his eye on his opponent. “ You stay out of it.”

“Make me, Arpel.”

Levi growled.

“Ooh. Tough guy.”

“Don’t hafta be tough to take a pussy like you.”

Then Levi charged Moser. I ended up in the middle and fell into a tangle of punching arms and kicking legs. Took a shot to my shin. An elbow to the gut. A glancing blow off my jaw. That one hurt. I braced myself for an opportunity to (a) escape or (b) inflict some damage.

Before I’d implemented either plan, both guys were pulled off me and I stared at the angry face of Sheriff Dawson.

Crap. I huddled on the ground, trying to make myself inconspicuous.

“What’s going on here?” Dawson had one meaty fist twisted in Levi’s tank top and the other in Moser’s baggy Denver Nuggets basketball shirt.

When neither answered, he shook Moser. “You. Tell me.”

Moser flashed Levi a nasty, bloody grin. “Nothing’s going on, Sheriff.”

Dawson scowled and focused his attention on Levi. “What about you? Gonna tell me why a couple of you guys are covered in dirt and blood and the rest are standing around watching?”

“Nothing going on. Sir.”

He released them. “Either go inside or get on home. I see any of you guys out here again, doing nothing , and I’ll throw you in the back of my patrol car and you can do nothing from a cell, understand?”

A bunch of murmured “yes sirs” then boys scattered like aspen leaves in a windstorm.

Dawson finally noticed me. “What the hell are you doing down there in the dirt, Mercy?”

“Nothing.”

He scowled and extended a hand to help me up, but Levi beat him to it.

I hid my shock that my nephew actually acknowledged my presence, and grunted as Levi jerked me to my feet.

“You all right?” Dawson asked me.

“I’m fine. Nothing ice and Excedrin won’t cure.”

Dawson’s gaze pinned Levi like a bug. “Want to say anything now that your buddies abandoned you?”

Levi dropped his chin. His tangled hair fell in his face.

“Didn’t think so.” He sighed. “Levi, I need to talk to your aunt alone.”

From beneath his fall of hair, Levi glared a you’re-gonna-rat-me-out look.

I couldn’t do that to him. “Sorry, Sheriff, it’ll have to wait. Levi’s face is hamburger. If I don’t get ice on it, his jaw will swell up like a toad’s.”

“You headed home?”

I didn’t answer. Let him think we were leaving. “See you around, Sheriff.”

He cupped my elbow before I’d made it two steps. “I haven’t forgotten you promised me a dance.” His husky whisper vibrated in my ear, sending a pleasant shiver through me. “Don’t think I won’t collect. Drive safe.”

Huh. His declaration was as curious as my reaction to it. I tried not to think about either as I led Levi to my truck.

Iunearthed a roll of gauze out of the first-aid kit stashed under the seat and ripped off the paper packaging.

“Thanks for umm… covering for me with the sheriff.”

“I didn’t cover for you. I didn’t know what you and that kid were fighting about. Why’d that guy Moser jump in?”

“Because he could. Fucking jerk-off. Thinks everybody oughta bow down to him, like he’s some alpha leader.”

I let his foul language slide because-hello? Pot? Calling the kettle black? I unwound a healthy chunk of gauze, snipped off a strip with my pocketknife, and dipped it in the melted ice from the cooler. “Normally I don’t offer advice, but if I were you, I’d clean off some of that blood before your mom sees you.”

“That bad?”

“Take a look.”

Levi ducked down and peered at himself in the passenger’s-side mirror. “That asshole Donald Little Bear really marked up my face, eh?”

He’d said it with pride. Boys. Men. Some things never changed. “You won’t be winning any beauty contests.”

After he’d become mildly presentable, he hopped up on the tailgate next to me.

I dug out two icy cold cans of Bud Light. Put the first one against my jaw, and popped the top on the other. I sucked down a mouthful of ambrosia and sighed.

Levi asked, “Can I have one?”

“For your eye?”

“No. To drink.”

“Hell no.” I sipped. “Does your mom let you drink beer?”

“Hell no.” His lips formed a smarmy grin. “But I do anyway.”

“You been drinking tonight?”

“Nah. Probably why being at this dance sucks.”

I slid him a sideways glance. “Were you having fun until you and Mr. Little Bear decided to make each other bleed?”

“Are you serious? These things are so lame.”

“Yeah? I always thought they were kinda fun.”

“Not when everyone is watching you all the time.”

Who was watching him? Not his mother. “Think you’ve got it bad? My dad was sheriff. When I was your age? Every time some guy he didn’t like asked me to dance, he’d cut in. In his wheelchair.”

Levi laughed. It was a pure, sweet sound. Not yet man, not quite boy. I didn’t know if I’d heard him laugh at all in the last month.

“I s’pose that’s worse.”

I waited a beat. “Worse than what?”

“My mom. Treating me like a little kid. Making me come to this thing in the first place, so we could spend some time together, then sneaking off with Theo the first chance she gets.”

“Who’s Theo?”

“Her boyfriend.”

The next swallow of beer hit my stomach like liquid nitrogen. “Since when does she have a boyfriend?”

Levi looked torn. Obviously he needed someone to talk to, but his loyalty was to his mom, even when he wasn’t happy with her. “For a couple months.”